my teen years taught me nothing of
importance
except how to write clear and deep
about what hurts
I've written enough by now
to fill a small library, so
look back with me -
I prayed for an ideal in cold rooms
and I still became the only one who could
save me
you look at me at my worst and you
tell me I've healed
you look at me at my best and say
I'm not enough
you told me they only recognize
greatness when it's in a party dress
dancing, not a day older than twenty
so tell me why I got more done
half dead with godlike confidence
than I ever did the way you asked of me?
would you have given me
half your kingdom
a wild prophet's head on a silver
platter
if I'd only been nice enough?
I'm not your Salome, I'm not your
beautiful daughter,
I'm iron and blood with war in my veins
I am the wild prophet you tried to kill
call for my head all you like,
I will no longer be
a pawn in your game
11/20/2022
-Allēna
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